The girl gave a timid smile, still holding the pen between her fingers.
Mayohi: I… my name is Mayohi. No need for you to introduce yourself, everyone here already knows who you are, Hinata.
Hinata looked at her for a moment, saying nothing. Her silence seemed to weigh more than words.
Mayohi: I saw what happened earlier… with Jack.
Her voice became softer, almost embarrassed.
Mayohi: I'm really sorry for you. But… if it makes you feel better, everyone who mocked you today will soon regret it. Jack is a brute. He only exists by crushing others.
Hinata squinted slightly.
Hinata: So you know him…?
Mayohi nodded with a sort of resignation.
Mayohi: Yes. He's my brother. A hopeless case, even for our family.
Hinata gave a thin, somewhat ironic smile as she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
Hinata: That's funny… you don't look like his sister.
Mayohi: Yet I am. I've been studying here for a long time, and until he arrived, it was peaceful. But now… it's going to quickly become a nightmare.
She sighed, then added in a livelier tone:
Mayohi: Honestly, I would have loved for you to give him a beating.
Hinata raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Hinata: But… he's your brother. How can you say that?
Mayohi: Because it's the only language he understands. If you had hit him, he would have calmed down.
She crossed her arms, proud despite her gentle air.
Mayohi: Luckily, he doesn't go after me. He knows I wouldn't let him.
Silence fell, then Mayohi resumed in a lighter voice:
Mayohi: Come on, let's leave this cursed alley.
The two girls walked away side by side. The cool evening wind passed between the buildings, carrying away the last echoes of the confrontation. Hinata walked slowly, listening to Mayohi speak, without much reply.
It was strange… the first time she spoke like this with someone from the school.
And, despite the situation, a thought crossed her mind: maybe… she had just made a friend.
Even if that friend was the sister of the one who acted as her tormentor.
At home.
The smell of a warm meal already floated in the house when Hinata crossed the threshold.
A sweet, almost comforting fragrance tickled her nose. Grilled pork, light spices, a scent of caramelized honey…
She involuntarily felt her cheeks flush pink.
Melokosa appeared from the kitchen, shirtless, his body still covered in bandages.
His arms also wore bandages as if covering old wounds, but his gaze was calm.
— So, Hinata? Classes are over? How was today?
Hinata put her bag on the table, without much energy.
— Meh. As usual.
She sighed.
— I have some exercises to do, but I'll take a shower first… to wash away the grime of the day.
Melokosa let out a small laugh.
— Haha, go ahead, but promise me you'll eat before your homework. You need to regain strength.
Hinata rolled her eyes.
— Tsk… you're always telling me what to do.
He smiled softly.
— You're not going to tell me you don't want to taste it? Grilled pork, fragrant rice, and even a bit of sauce I set aside just for you.
Hinata's cheeks flushed even more, but she quickly looked away.
— I'll do what I want! she shouted before locking herself in her room with a door slam.
Melokosa stayed there, a melancholy smile on his lips.
She had this strange temperament… fierce, almost wild.
As if every kind word awakened an instinctive distrust in her, a refusal to be commanded.
But he could feel that behind this hardness, there was something else — unconditional love.
In the bathroom, the water started running.
Hinata closed her eyes, letting the hot drops slide over her face.
The sound of the stream covered the whole world.
And yet, in the midst of this artificial peace, something vibrated in the silence.
A strange, icy sensation, like a presence lurking just behind the veil of reality.
She inhaled, trying to calm her heart.
But the more she tried to ignore it, the more this feeling imposed itself on her.
Something was approaching.
She couldn't say what.
Nor why.
But she was sure: this thing was immense… and linked to Melokosa in a way she couldn't understand.
When Hinata came out of the shower, steam still hanging in her hair, a gentle warmth emanated from the living room.
On the table, everything was already ready: steaming bowls, carefully arranged cutlery, a smell of spicy sauce filling the room.
Melokosa was busy putting away a towel on his shoulder.
Hinata sat down without a word, clasped her hands and closed her eyes for a moment — a short prayer, or perhaps a silent ritual to calm herself.
Then she began to eat, slowly, observing the details of the meal he had prepared.
She looked up when she heard footsteps.
Melokosa, already ready to leave, was putting on a worn jacket.
— Where are you going like that? she asked, mouth half full.
He smiled at her, that calm and protective smile he always reserved for her.
— A little problem at work. Nothing serious, I'll take care of it. I won't be long.
Hinata wanted to protest, but he had already stepped out the door.
She stayed still for a moment, listening to the soft click of the front door, then sighed and continued eating in silence.
After the meal, she settled on the couch, her notebooks open in front of her.
The pencil between her fingers traced lines without conviction. Her gaze remained lost elsewhere.
Melokosa…
She knew very well that this waiter job wasn't enough, that he was killing himself to maintain this fragile balance.
She wanted to help. Find him something better. Do something.
But she didn't know how, nor where to start.
Beneath her stubborn and sometimes insolent airs, Hinata cared for him more than anyone else.
It was almost visceral. As if a part of herself existed only to protect him — even from what she didn't understand.
Her thoughts eventually faded into fatigue.
She fell asleep there, on the couch, a notebook still half open on her lap.
When Melokosa returned, around eleven o'clock, he stopped at the living room threshold.
She was sleeping deeply, damp strands falling over her face.
A slight smile crossed his lips before he gently lifted her.
He carried her to her room, laid her on the bed and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.
— Rest, Hinata… he whispered.
Then he left the room, turning off the light behind him.
The silence of the night settled.
For a moment, he thought he felt a strange shiver cross the house — as if something invisible was watching them.
But he brushed the idea away with a gesture before lying down on the couch.
The next day.
The sun filtered through the classroom windows.
Hinata, seated in her place, waited for the teacher. Her circled eyes betrayed a restless night.
A cheerful voice broke the silence:
— Hey! How's it going, Hinata?
It was Mayohi, a shy smile on her lips, a bag full of books in her arms.
— Can I sit with you? she asked.
Hinata shrugged, detached but not hostile.
— Yes, go ahead.
Mayohi sat down, a bit too quickly, dropping a pencil. Hinata gave a slight smile.
Maybe, for the first time, she thought that having someone by her side wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
The classroom was bathed in pale light. The noise of the students gradually faded as the teacher had not yet arrived.
Mayohi, all smiles, turned to Hinata and lightly tapped her arm.
— Hey, did you watch the news this morning? she asked cheerfully.
Hinata raised an eyebrow, visibly lost.
— The news? No… why?
Mayohi sighed, almost dramatically:
— Are you kidding?! The "Shirané Pure Silk" cream! The one all the girls use! They announced it will be out of stock for at least five months!
She clutched the desk, eyes wide open.
— Five months, Hinata! Five months without this cream!
Hinata stared at her with no apparent emotion.
— Ah... okay.
Mayohi was speechless for a moment.
— What do you mean "okay"? You're not reacting?!
Hinata shrugged calmly.
— Well… it's just a cream, isn't it?
Mayohi widened her eyes.
— "Just a cream"?! Do you realize? Every girl in the country loves it! It makes the skin soft, radiant… it's a little wonder!
She squinted and leaned in a little, looking at Hinata more closely.
— Wait… your skin is perfect. Soft, clear, without any imperfections. Don't tell me you don't use the Shirané Pure Silk?!
Hinata calmly shook her head.
— No. I use "Mirana Fresh," some stuff they sell in any store.
Mayohi froze.
— Mirana Fresh?! But… that cream is super low quality! It smells like plastic and dries the skin in the long term!
Hinata shrugged again, tone neutral.
— Yet, it works well on me.
Mayohi looked at her, somewhat puzzled.
There was in Hinata's face a kind of quiet detachment, as if the small daily concerns slid off her without ever reaching her.
— You're weird, you know, Mayohi finally said with a little laugh.
— Most girls spend hours comparing creams, shampoos, makeup… and you, you seem to not care at all.
Hinata turned her gaze toward the window, thoughtful.
— I just don't have time for those things.
Mayohi looked at her for a long moment, intrigued.
There was in Hinata's voice a strange depth, a cold tone, almost melancholic — as if speaking of beauty or vanity belonged to a world that no longer concerned her.
— You know, Mayohi said with a timid smile, I think you're really not like the others.
Hinata replied simply:
— I know.
And at that moment, a light breath crossed the room, like a draft from elsewhere.
The pages of the notebooks fluttered, the lights flickered for a second.
Mayohi blinked — then everything returned to normal.
She frowned, uncomfortable not understanding why.
Hinata remained motionless, her gaze fixed on the window.